George's Memories
by Chekovskycookie
Summary: After a incident with his nephew and a bookshelf, George discovers a forgotten photo album. Feels ensue.


A loud crash led George to the study.

As he entered the room, he found his grandson, Arthur, sitting in the middle of a pile of books below the empty shelves of the Weasley family bookcase. The little fellow looked very disoriented and kept looking at the books in a confused manner, as if they had magically apparated around him. George felt a light chuckle rise up in his throat as he looked at the bewildered child.

"Oh, Arthur, what happened? Did you knock over the books?"

The child stared up at George for a second before getting up and toddling to the other room, most likely looking for some more mischief to cause.

With a little sigh, George bent down to pick up the fallen books. He loved his nephew like his own child, but that little rascal could never sit still for more than 30 seconds, which meant a hell of a bloody time for whoever was stuck with watching him.

George felt his bones groan as he bent down, his joints, once young and flexible, were now like the gears of an old junker, rusted and stiff. He knew that he could sweep up the books with a quick charm, but he found it calming to feel the smooth letter of the book covers rubbing his calloused hands. He was old now, and with the years he had learned to enjoy life's simple pleasures while he still had time left. One by one he put away the books, books that had been in the Weasley family since the beginning of time, books that he had undoubtly managed to knock off the shelves when he himself was a young boy. He developed a steady rhythym, keeping time with the creaking of his brittle bones as he bent down to pick the book of the floor. Slowly he filled up the empty gaps in the bookshelf until just one was left, which belonged to a large, black leather-bound photo album lying on the floor.

The old Weasley remembered this album from his school days, his mother taking his picture the at the train station before the start of his first year at Hogwarts, his brother, Bill, before he started working at Gringotts, Bill's wedding day…

George sat down on the scruffy couch and opened to the first picture. The first picture was a picture of him and Fred as little kids, waving as Charlie went off to Hogwarts. Next, Him and Fred laughing during Christmas as their mother tried to chase down the ornaments they had bewitched to chuck themselves at people. Then, a picture of Fred standing in front of their joke shop, demonstrating the effect of joke wands. Next, Fred bewitching eggs to fly at Ron, coating his robes with a slimy mess…

A tear fell onto the page.

Fred. His brother. His best friend. His partner in crime. They could always count on each other, were always together. It was always Fred and George, never just Fred, or just George, but the both of them, together.

The final battle changed all that. He remembered running towards Fred's lifeless body stretched, limp, lying in the Great Hall, thinking _not him not him oh god please no…_

The weeks after that were a dark hole embedded in his memory. The only thing he could remember was cursing himself for not doing something, for not helping his brother in his one moment of need. If he had just _been_ there, he could have pushed his brother out of the way, or better yet, jumped in front of the curse. But no. He had left his brother to die, without even lifting a finger to help.

He remembered only starting to heal months later. He was living with his mum and dad, not even thinking about ever reopening Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It was on one of these bleary mornings that he heard his mum call "Fred, come in the kitchen!"

George remembered walking into the kitchen, where his mom stood, the pain of her mistake reflected in her eyes. With a sad smile, he replied "I'm not Fred, I'm George. Jesus Christ, woman, don't you recognize your own children?" His mum let out a forced, guttural laugh and turned away quickly, pretending to go back to her cooking, trying to hide the tears welling up in her eyes.

George flipped through the rest of the album, soaking in the memory of his twin from the yellow, brittle pages. He stared at each picture carefully, chuckling at the numberless photos of their pranks, smiling as he remembered the happy memories spent with Fred.

When he was done, George went to the old oak desk, another one of the Weasley's old artifacts. From within, he withdrew a piece of parchment and a quill and ink, and began.

_Dear Fred,_

_ A lot has happened since the time you left us. Let me tell you all about it…_

Epilogue:_ George Weasley died in his sleep 2 years after his letter was written and was buried next to his brother, Fred Weasley. His letter was never found._


End file.
